The Bakeshop at Pumpkin and Spice

by Donna Kauffman

  “Sorry,” he apologized as he placed the jacket on the empty stool beside him.

  She let the touch slide. “Not a problem.” Glancing his way, she admired, “That’s a very nice suit. I especially like your tie.”

  Her compliment stroked his ego, without her even realizing it. He wore a suit to work most days. All but casual Friday. Suits lent a professional aura to his mayoral position. He had a nice selection in his closet. This particular suit had been a spur-of-the-moment choice. A part of him had wanted to look extra sharp for her. Her approval made the effort all worthwhile. “Thank you.” He then gently reached over and straightened her headband. He patted down the blond spikes.

  “Appreciated,” she said on a sigh. “I love hair bands. They don’t always like me. The bands are supposed to smooth back my hair. However the strands go every which way on a good day.”

  “I don’t mind your spikes.”

  “Yet you patted them down.”

  “Just the ones that were tall as beanstalks.”

  “Beanstalks?” Her gaze narrowed.

  He sucked air. Had he hurt her feelings? “I was joking.”

  “So together we’re Jackass and the Beanstalk.”

  Good one. He couldn’t help but smile. He appreciated a woman with a quick comeback. He hadn’t meant to offend her. Jackass . . . really? He defended his comment, explained, “I read Jack and the Beanstalk to my four-year-old nephew, Drew, over the weekend. Seven separate times. Beanstalk stuck in my mind.”

  “Four is a cute age.”

  “Drew likes repetition. He doesn’t read himself, but he could pretty much retell the story from memory by the seventh read.”

  “You were patient with him.”

  “I like kids.”

  “So do I.” A short, contemplative pause. “Maybe someday I’ll have family with the right man.”

  “Same here. Right woman.”

  They had a similar focus on their futures. They both wanted marriage and children. He wondered if she and Glen had not broken up, whether she would have gone the distance with the man. The two didn’t seem evenly matched. Glen was loud and obnoxious at times. Pushy to a fault. Lara had a soft seriousness and subtle wit. Jack liked her. His growing fondness for her surged. Swift and surprising. He went with it. She had a warm heart. Perpetual smile.

  Community college graduate Nate Harper pushed through the swinging door that separated the soda fountain and small kitchen. He wore an apron, welcoming them. “Mayor, Lara, good to see you both.”

  “I see you got the job,” Lara was quick to say.

  “I was sweating it,” Nate admitted. “Today’s my first day.”

  “My first day at the courthouse, too,” Lara told him.

  “So I heard.” Word spread fast in Moonbright. Nate offered his hand. “Congrats to us both.” The two shook hands.

  “We’re here for supper,” Jack told him.

  Nate startled. “You are?”

  Lara nodded. “I’m in the mood for a toasted ham and cheese on rye and a root beer float.”

  Jack ordered next. “Patty melt and a chocolate milkshake.”

  Nate repeated their order, nodded. “Got it. Food will be out in a few.” He returned to the kitchen.

  Jack and Lara smiled at one another. All normal and natural. Easygoing. As if they were a couple, and silence was acceptable. No words needed to be necessary. Oddly enough, they were soon joined by Edna Milner. The older woman was short, and she rose on tiptoe to slide onto her stool. The toes on her scuffed brown oxfords barely skimmed the floor. Dressed for the cooler weather, she wore a knit cap, thick cable-knit sweater, and a dark wool skirt. A few strands of yarn unraveled at the hem of her sweater.

  Nate had seen her arrive through the small window cut into the swinging door. He popped his head out, said, “Be with you in a minute, Ms. Milner.”

  “That’s sixty seconds, boy. I’m counting.”

  During those seconds, Edna looked down the counter at Jack and Lara. She huffed, commented, “Another courthouse romance, I see.”

  Jack glanced her way. “Another one?” He didn’t understand. How many were there?

  Edna swiveled her stool to face him. “Quite a few, actually. There’s no rule against staff dating, from what I gather. Mary White and Martin Nix from the Department of Motor Vehicles see each other on a regular basis. Chances are good that Court Bailiff Taft and Carol Linder from Accounting will get engaged at Christmas. Now there’s the two of you,” she pointedly said.

  Lara leaned forward, spoke around him. “We’re just friends, Ms. Milner. We’re celebrating my first day on the job.”

  Edna sniffed. “Enjoy yourselves. Quite the party. I love the balloons, box of chocolates, and confetti.”

  There were none. Sarcasm and Edna walked hand in hand. Jack preferred that he and Lara not be caught in the gossip mill. So he shifted the subject. Backed up a bit. “How do you know who’s dating who at the courthouse?” he asked, curious.

  “I’m there several times a week. One reason or another. People don’t seek me out, but I have eyes and ears. Abigail Warner in Personnel and Larry Krantz, the building inspector, have gone from flirting to a serious relationship. You’d have to be blind not to see the couples.”

  Jack was at a loss for words. He had his finger on the business pulse of the courthouse. Yet he’d somehow missed the heartbeat of romance. He hadn’t a clue who dated whom. Such involvements meant little to him, as long as everyone worked hard while on the clock. Still, it was quite an awakening.

  “Nate!” Edna called out. “It’s been over a minute.”

  More like three or four, Jack calculated. Edna was impatient, and in a hurry to order. She must be hungry. Or just plain ornery.

  Nate must have heard the older woman. He quickly appeared, knocking open the door with his hip. He carried a small tray with plates of food and their soda fountain drinks. He served them. He’d graciously added potato chips to Lara’s sandwich and French fries with Jack’s patty melt. “No extra charge for the sides. We appreciate your business.”

  He then worked his way down the counter. “Your turn, Ms. Edna. Your regular?”

  Edna frowned. “You’re new to the soda fountain. How do you know about my regular?”

  “From Mr. Morgan.” The pharmacist.

  One corner of her mouth tipped in the faintest hint of a smile for Nate. This was a first for Jack. He’d never received more than a sneer from her.

  “Harold and his father have served me once a week for fifty years,” she informed Nate. “I have high expectations for my sundae. Do your best. You have a lot to live up to.”

  Fifty years caught Jack’s attention. She must like ice cream. He elbowed Lara. She got his message. They were both curious about Edna Milner. They bit into their sandwiches, and discreetly watched and listened.

  Nate moved down the counter to the dipping station. The freezer case displayed ten flavors of ice cream and two of sherbet. He located a retro rectangular glass dish, then bent over the case and began to scoop. His hand shook slightly. Jack realized the young man was nervous. Nate wanted to make the sundae to her exact requirements. Edna demanded perfection, even with her ice cream. Nate carefully dipped vanilla, butter pecan, strawberry, and rocky road. Each scoop was full and rounded.

  Jack and Lara blinked at the same time. Four big scoops for the small lady. Could Edna really eat it all?

  Apparently so, and more to boot, as she went on to remind Nate. “The works.”

  Nate gave her a thumbs-up.

  Jack resumed eating. His patty melt was delicious, thick with cheese and perfectly cooked. Beside him, Lara enjoyed her own sandwich. They silently anticipated the works.

  Which was soon realized. With dramatic flair, Nate proceeded to drizzle hot fudge topping over the rocky road, add strawberry sauce to the strawberry ice cream, caramel to the butter pecan, and a spoonful of warm melted marshmallow to the vanilla.

  Jack’s jaw dropped and Lara’s eyes
went wide. The dish was as big as one meant for a banana split, minus the fruit. Possibly even bigger once topped with whipped cream and four cherries.

  “Bottomless leg?” Jack whispered to Lara.

  “Her eyes have to be bigger than her stomach,” Lara softly responded.

  Nate presented the sundae to Edna, along with two spoons. The two spoons puzzled Jack. Nate stepped back, inhaled deeply, awaiting her approval.

  Jack realized he and Lara were both holding their breath, too.

  Edna turned the dish side to side. She savored its visual appeal. To Jack the sundae was picture-perfect. The ice cream was ideally measured. The toppings in proportion, and didn’t run together. One of the cherries sank into the whipped cream. The stem remained visible.

  The woman picked up the spoon, scooped deep, devouring an enormous bite of whipped cream, warm marshmallow, and vanilla ice cream. She closed her eyes for a heartbeat. “What do you think, Marvin?” Jack overheard her say.

  Marvin? A strange question, to say the least. She sat alone at the counter. Yet there was a second spoon. Left untouched.

  Nate, Lara, and Jack simultaneously exhaled when Edna nodded at the younger man. “Not bad. Next time less caramel and more marshmallow.”

  Nate was so relieved he staggered back to the kitchen.

  Their meal progressed. Lara snagged a French fry from Jack’s plate, as easily as if they’d dated for years, and she knew he’d share with her. He stole one of her potato chips. “Have two,” she offered. And nabbed another fry.

  They finished their meals, both pleasantly full. Jack complimented, “Nate makes a mean chocolate milkshake.”

  Lara sipped the last of her root beer float through the straw. It made a sucking, slurping noise. She set the fluted glass aside. Grinned.

  “That good?” asked Jack.

  “I like root beer and I love ice cream.”

  Edna slid off her stool, passed them on her way out. “Lots of calories in both,” she said. “Careful, girl, or you’ll get fat.”

  Lara startled. Her lips parted, but she had no words. A response would’ve been pointless. Reacting to rudeness was equally rude.

  Jack shook his head. He’d thought the sundae might have sweetened Edna up, even for a moment. Apparently not. He glanced down the counter, and the ice cream dish caught his eye. It held his attention.

  He touched Lara’s arm, nodded to the right. “Check it out.”

  Lara frowned back at him. “Edna didn’t finish her sundae.”

  “She only ate half.”

  “That’s all Edna ever eats,” explained Nate, returning from the kitchen. “My boss warned me in advance not to take it personally.”

  “She wasted two scoops,” Jack noted.

  “Not wasted in her mind,” said Nate. “She was saving them for Marvin.”

  “Who’s Marvin?” asked Lara.

  Nate grew uncomfortable. “Not sure I’m supposed to say. I don’t want to gossip.”

  “Whatever you say goes no further than us,” Jack assured him.

  “Well . . .” Still, Nate hesitated. He cleared away the retro dish and two spoons, setting them in the small sink on the opposite side of the counter to be washed later. He then came back and faced the two of them. He spoke quickly, quietly, “Long before I was born, and you, too”—he indicated Jack and Lara—“Edna Milner was engaged to Marvin Wright. Both grew up in Moonbright. According to Harold’s dad, they were inseparable. Best friends as children. Engaged as adults.”

  Jack took it all in. The story originated with the pharmacist’s father. He, Edna, and Marvin would’ve been about the same age growing up. Coming from a small town, they’d have known each other well.

  “Long story short”—Nate kept his voice low—“for countless years of dating, Edna and Marvin enjoyed an ice cream sundae every Monday night. Each would pick two flavors of ice cream and toppings. They ate the sundae fast and messy as kids, then more slowly and romantically as grownups. He always called her ‘his queen.’

  “Maine winters are wicked. A blizzard was forecast one Monday night. Despite the weather warning, Edna insisted they go for ice cream. She pushed him to drive into town for their date. He did. They ate their sundae, left the apothecary. Edna lived in town with her parents, and Marvin drove her to the rooming house. He and his family lived more rural, on the old Wright Orchard, ten miles out of town. The road wasn’t paved. A white-out, drifting snow, and he landed in a ditch.” Nate swallowed hard. “Marvin never made it home.” Pause. “Edna never forgave herself.”

  “Oh . . . no.” Lara covered her heart with her hand.

  Jack’s own chest tightened. An unbelievable tragedy.

  “Edna was never the same after that. She buried her future and all her happiness with Marvin. She became angry and bitter. The only time Harold has ever seen her relax is when she orders her sundae. She eats half, leaves the rest for Marvin. Who knows? Perhaps that’s how she connects with him in the afterlife. No one talks about the two of them anymore. It was a long time ago. Few even remember. I only learned the story because Harold wanted Edna served with dignity.”

  “You did a great job,” Jack assured him.

  Lara agreed. “You honored Marvin’s memory.”

  Nate noted the two coins left by the napkin holder. He picked them up. Rubbed them together. “I was told Edna always leaves thirty cents. A quarter for the sundae, which was the price back in her day, and a nickel for a tip. My boss won’t ever charge her more.”

  Two high school boys entered the drugstore and headed toward the soda fountain. They were big and tall and wore lettermen jackets. This time of year, Jack assumed they played football. Nate scribbled their bill on a lined pad and left it with Jack. He then went to wait on the jocks.

  Lara leaned lightly against his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if she was even aware of the contact. Her expression was incredibly sad.

  He lowered his voice, said, “I feel as bad about Edna as you. She lost the love of her life and never recovered. To this day, she’s mad at herself.”

  “She’s still hurting, so she hurts others.”

  “She strikes out often.”

  Lara sighed. “I might, too, given her circumstance. Edna’s alone, and alone can be lonely. I need to be nicer to her.”

  “Nice will only go so far. She’ll still call you Pumpkin Head.”

  “I also got ‘pumpkin guts for brains.’ ”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Edna has a way with words.”

  “We may never get along, but I understand her now.”

  He retrieved his wallet from his pants pocket. He paid their bill, leaving Nate a generous tip. “Supper was decent.”

  She met his gaze. “But you’d rather have had Italian?”

  Her hazel eyes were warm, searching. She needed reassurance. “Enzio’s isn’t going anywhere. There’ll be other nights. At the end of the day, we shared a meal. I wanted to spend time with you.”

  “I enjoyed it, too.”

  They turned in opposite directions and slid off their stools. It was safer that way. No more of his knee between her thighs. He slipped on his suit jacket. They strolled down the nearest aisle toward the exit.

  Walking ahead of him, Lara suddenly detoured right. He followed. She stopped before the card rack and began flipping through those congratulating someone on a new job. “What’s up?” he asked.

  Color heightened her cheeks. She hesitated, then said, “I promised myself that if I found work, I’d send myself a card.”

  “You now have a job.”

  “You hired me. I should send you a thank-you card.”

  “No need. I’m appreciative you’re onboard.” He sorted through the cards alongside her. Found one he liked. He handed it to her, saying, “We’ll both sign the card.”

  She took the card, designed with colorful balloons and confetti. She read the cover aloud, “Congratulations on Your New Job!” She opened it. “Throw confetti! Throw a Party! Throw a Parade!” She clos
ed the card, located the envelope. “A parade for Moonbright.”

  “Get ready,” from Jack. “Pumpkins, Scarecrows, and Costumes, oh my!”

  She blew out a soft breath. “Oh . . . my.”

  Chapter 3

  Oh . . . my, Lara had said in the drugstore the previous evening, reflecting on the parade. Organizing such an event weighed heavily on her mind. There was so much to do in so little time.

  Oh . . . my took on a whole new meaning when Jack Hanson drove her home. He’d walked her to the front door of her apartment. They’d stood incredibly close. The air between them seemed to compress. She wondered in those seconds if he would kiss her.

  He had. It was the kiss of her lifetime, and one she’d never forget. He’d leaned in, allowing their bodies to meet. His male heat and muscle pressed against her full curves. He slid his hands into her hair. Her headband slipped. His thumbs traced the surprise and insecurity from her brow. Then the corners of her eyes. He grazed her bottom lip. Desire warmed her. Her eyelids shuttered. She wanted his mouth on hers.

  Their kiss was beyond anything she could ever have imagined. Soft and gentle, short and sweet. Testing and discovering. Intensifying. Their kiss took over the moment. His tongue flicked, tasting her. Getting to know her. Time slowed. She was lost to him.

  Had he moaned or had she when they finally separated? Perhaps both of them had echoed their need for increasing intimacy. They stared openly and honestly at each other. His gaze was as hot as her body. She desperately wanted to kiss him again. To feel his strength and maleness against her.

  She wasn’t given that chance. A breath shuddered in his chest. His common sense seemed to kick in and he pushed back. He ran one hand down his face. Shifted his stance. He couldn’t hide his heavy breathing or his erection. Inches hard. Highly impressive.

  “Tomorrow, Lara,” he’d said, as he turned away from her and walked down the sidewalk to his Range Rover. She gave him a small wave when he drove off.

  She’d shakily entered her apartment, glanced in the wall mirror. She barely recognized the woman with the slightly tilted headband, starry eyes, and puffy lips. She’d had a one-sided crush on Jack when she was younger. Two consenting adults had kissed tonight. She heaved a breath. The man could kiss. The very thought of him left her light-headed. Her stomach fluttery.